Arrival
by Exile36
Summary: Arriving in the port of Canlin, Florida, Francis Louis, and Zoey are trapped in the middle of a hurricane. Unable to continue to the island, they must survive hordes of infected, living bandits, and an unfriendly environment. With their mentor, Bill, dead less than a week, can these three survive the ordeal to come? Or will another of them have to pay the ultimate price?
1. Chapter 1

A New Enemy

"That could have gone better."

Francis finished wiping what was left of the hunter off of his vest as he retorted. "Shut up, Louis." Louis glanced nervously around as he and Francis stood in the moldy, run down office. A week ago they had found their boat, the One 4 All, but lost something Louis considered far more valuable. A friend. Bill had died raising the bridge for them when thousands of zombies were assaulting them, which had saved their lives. With the supplies in the boat, and an entirely clear way to the coast though, it seemed like Bill's sacrifice hadn't been in vain.

Too bad that didn't make any of them feel better. Louis tried to keep his friends' spirits up, as he had done before, but he felt like Bill had taken a piece of him off that bridge with him. They all did. The grizzled old veteran had adjusted to the apocalypse (which was a strange thing to say if one thought about it, Louis supposed), and had kept the three of them alive for a month in a hostile new world. He'd passed on knowledge of survival, combat skills, stories from his two years in Vietnam, the disaster of a life that followed, and more.

"Hey, Lou, you there?" Francis interrupted his thoughts as he slid another shell into the breach of his automatic shotgun. He had finished dragging the hunter's corpse to the corner of the office and was looking at Louis to come up with their next move.

"Let's head back. I don't think we'll find what we're looking for, and I really don't like Zoey being all alone on the boat." In the week after they found the boat and departed Rayford, Georgia, the three had been going ashore every day to scrounge what they could from the mainland before they left it behind, likely for the last time. While the boat had canned goods, ammunition, medical supplies, and packs of cigarettes to last for months, at the very least, none of that would do them any good if they sailed into a hurricane. The rain outside was coming in through the long broken window, with blood staining the jagged pieces around the break. The dingy, poorly lit office had belonged to the harbormaster of a small town called Canlin, Florida, just on the edge of the Gulf of Mexico. Lighting flashed, thunder boomed, and the wind howled into the evening as the two men prepared to go back out.

"You sure you wanna go back out there Louis?"

"What's wrong, Francis? Afraid of getting your vest wet?"

A month ago, the titan of a man would have held Louis' neck in his hands, but now he just gave a deep chuckle. "Well, little man, you just think what you want to. Personally, I don't see how walking through a monsoon-"

"Hurricane."

"-Big Ass Storm is any better than sailing through it. What if we get lost or somethin'?"

Thinking on it for a second, Louis nodded. "I guess you're right Francis. We'll hold up here until it lightens up. Only idiots would go out into a hurricane like this."

Francis walked over to the desk, sweeping his huge arms over it and scattering the various documents, containers, and utensils all over the dusty floor. Sitting on it, he crossed his arms and smirked. "Damn, I wish I could have recorded that! The great, unfailing Louis finally admits that Francis the Wise and Indestructible was right!"

Louis smirked as well. "It was only a matter of time I guess," he sighed, as Francis looked on, triumphant. "I really should have known it would happen. I mean, when the dead rise, other abnormal shit has to happen too!" Francis scooped a coffee mug off the ground and hurled it across the room. Louis ducked, and it shattered against the wall, the noise drowned out by a wave of thunder. Both of them laughed as the storm washed through the once lively small town, taking everything it could back to the ocean. Louis checked his submachine gun again, for what seemed to be the tenth time since they had entered the office. "See what we're looking for?"

"Nothing that's particularly map-like, that I can see." It had been a long shot, but it was the only thing they could think of. Since this hurricane had some in, the three of them had been effectively held up in the port, not wanting to risk an accident out on the open water in such a flimsy boat. They had come looking for a type of "hurricane schedule", which were Zoey's words, in the hope that someone in the port had some kind of map, or piece of paper with everything they needed to know about this storm written on it. Again, he wished Bill had been here. The old man seemed to know everything they needed to know to get by, and hadn't had time to elaborate on what exactly they would do with the boat after getting it, aside from going to an island. If he had known how to deal with an obstacle like they were currently facing, he had unknowingly taken that very important information to his metaphorical grave.

Francis, still sitting on the desk leaned against the wall. "Turn out that flashlight Louis, we don't need any infected seeing that from across the town. We won't find anything here anyway." Louis sighed and looked down, wishing now more than ever that he was back in front of his computer playing Counter Strike as the weight of the situation crashed down on him like a wave.

"And lights out, just like I said." The wrinkled, bearded man set down the binoculars as the one with the tie flicked off the flashlight across the street, concealing the office in darkness. Gripping one of his pistols, he turned to the others sitting around the room with him, an assortment of various dirty, smelly, beaten down men and women who had managed to survive the worst of the outbreak by sticking together, and against everyone else. A woman, short brown hair soaked in rainwater, stood next to him and glared at where the two men in the office across from them were.

"What if there are more of them, Henry?" Her voice was flat, almost unconcerned with what their group was planning to do. 18 hardened survivors against an office manager and a guy who looked like he was stuck back in the 1980's wasn't much of a challenge, even if they didn't have the firepower they'd looted from those soldiers they had found two weeks ago.

"Well, Stella," he said, holding back a deep chuckle. "We introduce them _this._" His eyes scanned their group's prized possession, sleek and black, sitting on a shelf. The weapon, a killer of men that they had all come to treasure due to its destructive firepower shone in the dim light of the storm as lighting lanced through the sky above. "Send Todd, Brian, and Jennifer out once the storm lets up enough. Tell'em that they're going to that boat these idiots left at the dock, and to take care of anyone inside."


	2. Chapter 2

Wake Up Call

"Do you always have to do the exact opposite of what I say?"

"Jeez Carolyn, will you get off my back? We were only having some fun. A little father daughter time. It wouldn't kill you to spend some more time with our little girl, would it?"

Zoey rolled her eyes as they sat around the kitchen table, once again discussing her preference for movies over school. Her father had let her stay home for the day so they could go out and watch the new zombie flick at the theater, since her mother would be gone all day. Too bad she had come back early and caught them just as they were getting home in the middle of the day.

"Wade, I've talked to her teachers. She's a smart girl but she lacks drive. If she had some discipline, maybe she could get her grades back up."

Her father crossed his arms from across the table. "Her grades are fine, Lyn."

Carolyn gave her voice an edge as she spoke. "Her grades are falling, Wade. She was nearly a straight A student, and now she's got nothing but B's, and C's. Her teachers are expecting this to continue if she doesn't buckle down and do something about it!" Getting no response, she added, "What about what she does after High School? She's a senior, Wade, and we won't be able to pay for college on a policeman's salary, even in addition to-

"Mom, why can't I just-"

"Young lady, you stay out of this. You're already in enough trouble."

Zoey scowled and looked down at the table cloth as her parents continued to argue. It wasn't her fault school was a total hellhole. Wade and Carolyn's shouting became more of a background noise as she tried to block out their fighting. She was getting good at that now. The movies helped. They took her mind off of her parents fighting, how no one at school seemed to like her, how her mother didn't want her to follow her dreams of making films. Blocking them out was the only way she knew how to deal with her problems.

"Zoey, are you even listening to me?" her mother snapped. "You need to wake up and see what you are doing. Your entire future could be affected. Wake up, Zoey." _Wake up. Wake up._

"What?"

"Zoey, your mother's right. You need to wake up." She heard it, a slow, steady chant in the background as the world began to spin, and the kitchen morphed into something more sinister. The lights were out, and she could only see by the light of a fire raging outside in the ruined street as dark silhouettes shambled around it like zombies. She could smell smoke in the background, and heard the far off screams of a frightened animal, the entire time hearing the chant slowly get louder. She turned to her dad.

"Dad, what's happening?!" Her father turned, now wrinkled with age and clenching a cigarette in his teeth. The Green Beret that sat on his head was the same, faded green of the uniform he had, but hadn't been wearing a few seconds ago. Recognizing it for the nightmare that it was, she attempted to stand up and cry out, but found herself bound by some unseen force to her chair. The old man slid a handgun across the table as the background chanting intensified: _ Wake up, Wake Up, WAKE UP!_

* * *

"Wake up, sunshine." Zoey was startled out of her sleep by the feel of cool, smooth metal being pressed against her forehead. Her eyes, still drowsy with sleep, if that nightmare could be considered such, were still blurry from her abrupt wake up call. The man looked to be in his mid-30s, from what little she could tell in the dim light of the boat's hold. He wore a wrinkled and dirty camouflage jacket, and had a long scar running over his chin at an angle, which looked recent. His eyes were the only thing she could see clearly, glinting blue with a hint of madness in them as he turned back and called out. "Brian, Jennifer, I got a live one!" On deck, just above them, she heard heavy footsteps make their way toward the entrance to the deck they were on, until stopping suddenly. Her captor visibly tensed as the rain continued to come down in sheets, making any conversation above a yell impossible.

Then all hell broke loose. Above, she could barely hear a shriek of animal hunger, cut out by a burst of gunfire. A deeper, drawn out growl followed, which in turn brought an even greater hail of gunfire. Distracted by the commotion above, her captor forgot what he was doing. Lowering the gun, he dashed for the exit to help his friends, but Zoey was faster. Quickly drawing the handgun out of her waistband, thanking whatever higher power had concealed it from the man's sight; she pointed and squeezed the trigger.

The man in the camouflage jacket stiffened as the bullet hit him in the side, staggering back and grasping the railing on the edge of the vessel as he fought to keep himself upright. Rain streaked over his face as Zoey took aim, though he was far too concentrated on his wound to notice her. She fired again, this time catching the man in the upper torso. The bullet tore into him, exiting the other side, and the force of the shot was too much for him in his weakened state as he was carried over the edge of the boat and into the water below.

"Todd? Todd!" Another man, wearing a brown vest with a striped shirt underneath, ran over to where his friend had just been, leaning over the railing and searching for some sign that he had survived. Another voice, a woman's, echoed from the top deck.

"It's clear for now. Let's get whatever Todd said he had, and jet before more of those things arrive." As the woman walked into Zoey's field of view, which was small from the rear of the darkened hold, a look of horror crossed her face when she realized what her friend was going on about, now weeping openly in the storm. She glanced back into the ship, and saw the glint of Zoey's pistol pointed at her. She raised a shotgun, murder in her eyes as she fired a shell into the ceiling of the hold and strode in. "Gun down, bitch!" she commanded. Zoey, weapon trained on her, pulled the trigger, and heard a noise that drowned out the storm, the apocalypse, and everything but that fragile moment.

_Click._

The woman, now in front of her, snatched the gun away and struck Zoey with the butt of her shotgun in one, smooth motion. Hitting the wooden floor, Zoey's vision began to go dark as the weeping man, Brian, she guessed, walked in with Todd's pistol clasped firmly in his hand. The woman raised her boot, and brought it down on Zoey's head, finishing her transition into the world of the unconscious. Her last thought before she was completely gone was _I hope I don't dream again._

* * *

Francis stumbled into the hold of the boat, shotgun raised, as he deftly scanned the interior. The food was all there, medicine on the shelves, ammunition present and accounted for, but the most important thing on their ship couldn't be found. "Damnit Louis, you said the zombies didn't like moving around in the rain!"

"That was a guess! But I don't think zombies did this. Look here." From the top deck, in the rain, Louis lay down and pushed his hand through a hold in the hold's ceiling, drawing Francis' attention to it. "This wasn't made by any zombie I've seen. Just before Francis could respond, he noticed a figure in the back of the darkened hold. Shotgun loaded and ready for action, he slowly stepped over to it, sweat mixed with rainwater as the tension mounted.

"Find anything?"

"Shut up, Louis!" He continued, one hand free of the shotgun as he came closer. His imagination nearly got away from him, as he imagined all of the things that could have happened while they were away. In a low voice, he whispered her name. "Zoey?" No response. His throat tightened as the worst was coming to life. The darkness in the hold seemed infinite.

He crouched down, leaving the shotgun, and shaking the corpse with his strong hands shouted at it: "Wake up damnit, wake up!" Louis came up behind him, placing his hands on the big man's shoulders and trying to pull him away.

"Francis, come on-"

"NO!" His head whipped around, furious and sad at the same time as Louis brought Bill's old lighter up, and flicked it on. The small light was enough to illuminate the corpse, a small woman who had been dead long before they arrived in Canlin, and clearly not Zoey. Killed the first time by a bit on the neck, she had been killed again by four gunshots to the chest. The blood was still slick. Francis let out a sigh of relief as he stood again, letting the tension leave his body.

Then Louis spoke. Un-crumpling a small piece of paper that had been clenched in the corpse's hand, he read aloud as Francis' expression dropped. "We have your friend. Come unarmed to the police station on Walnut and Second if you want to see her alive again. We will be waiting."


End file.
